


Just Leaf

by moonythestrals



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fluff, Fluff to F--, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, That's how I roll - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25106440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonythestrals/pseuds/moonythestrals
Summary: “Alright,” Zuko says, a small burn blossoming across the leaf in his palm, “ready –”Sokka dumps a bucket of pond water over his head.*Or, Sokka doesn't think Zuko can concentrate through all types of distractions.  Zuko... proves him right.
Relationships: Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 516





	Just Leaf

Sokka is committed to finding the perfect leaf.

He’s aware that he’s probably flitting around the big tree like Momo chasing a firefly, but he – “I think you’ve had enough figs, Momo,” Zuko intones from somewhere on the ground – _doesn’t care_ , okay, _this is important_. Sokka is not about to let Zuko win because he lucked out on, like, the only large, wet, somehow flame retardant leaf on the whole tree.

“Flame… retardant…” Zuko says.

Sokka ignores him.

It’s been 20 minutes, and Sokka’s ready to call the whole thing off – “it’s not _forfeiting_ – it’s the curse of the pursuit of perfection, which I’m sure you know something about” – when the wind lifts, hazy sunlight slanting through the branches, and Sokka spots it – outlined against a spot of clear blue sky and dancing to a faint chorus of sparrowkeet song – the perfect leaf.

It’s not too large, not too small. Not too dry, not too wet. It’s bright green and edged with gold, and it seems to _preen_ in the breeze. It’s a leaf that says, “I’m ready for battle.” It’s a leaf that says, “ _Take me home, Sokka, and let me make you proud_.”

“… the things that you’re actually saying out loud,” Zuko says from somewhere below him.

Sokka plucks the leaf gently from its branch and clambers down, triumphant.

Zuko eyes him impassively and holds out his hand.

“Not yet,” Sokka warns, bringing the leaf up close to his face. He stares at it narrowly. “Don’t fuck this up for me, _leaf_ ,” he says, shaking it slightly. “We’re in this together.” He pauses dramatically. “ _I’m leafing it up to you_.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow. Sokka places the leaf carefully on Zuko’s outstretched palm.

“I’m sure it’ll just burst into flames out of sheer terror of your face,” Zuko says, sitting down.

Sokka doesn’t answer. “LEAFING,” he cries, slapping his knee. “ _LEAFING._ ”

*

“Alright,” Zuko says, a small burn blossoming across the leaf in his palm, “ready –”

Sokka dumps a bucket of pond water over his head.

“AH-HAH!!” he yells, pointing a triumphant finger at Zuko’s face – or where he thinks Zuko’s face should be, somewhere under Zuko’s now drooping wet mop of hair. “I GOT YOU!”

“Seriously,” the hair mop says, unamused.

“SERIOUSLY?!” Sokka wails. Disturbingly, the leaf is completely undisturbed. Its burn mark remains a perfect circle, edges flickering an ember orange.

“What did you think was going to happen?” Zuko asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sokka says. “ _Science?!_ ”

A huge cloud of steam rises around Zuko and, when it clears, his clothes are dry and the leaf is serenely, mockingly unchanged, to Sokka’s tremendous disappointment.

But on a positive note – Sokka realizes, brightening – the dramatic blow-dry has managed to fluff Zuko’s hair into a completely undignified style that could only be described as “turtleduck chic.”

Sokka snickers, consoled, and counts the battle as a draw. After all, he is an optimist.

*

“Here,” Sokka says, holding out a glass. “In case you’re thirsty. It’s hot out here, and you’ve been working hard.”

“What is it,” Zuko asks.

“Water,” Sokka answers, with a straight face.

“Right,” Zuko says, also with a straight face. “And why is your water milky white with pieces of cactus floating in it?”

Sokka shoves a finger in the glass and flicks away the offending evidence. “What cactus?” he asks, batting his eyelashes and smiling innocently.

“Your face is doing something weird,” Zuko says. “And also, no, thank you.”

Sokka holds up a finger. “According to my diligent studies,” he begins.

Zuko snorts.

“– _extremely_ diligent studies, as a _valued_ ambassador of peace,” Sokka continues, undeterred, “it’s considered very rude in Fire Nation culture to refuse a drink from a friend.”

“You’re right,” Zuko allows graciously. He waves his free hand. “You first. I insist.”

Sokka beams. “Why, thank you, pal,” he says cheerily, “don’t mind if I do!” He tilts the glass back. “Gulp, gulp, gulp,” he says, side-eyeing Zuko while hiding the cup behind his mouth.

“Mmmmmm, _so_ delicious and refreshing, _just_ what I needed on this hot day!” he says, bringing the cup back into view, half full.

“The rest is yours,” he says, holding the glass out. “… _Water you waiting for?_ ”

Zuko’s mouth twitches. “I,” he says, “ _literally_ saw you pouring it out over your shoulder. The glass was not even close to the vicinity of your face, let alone your mouth.”

Sokka is not listening. “ _WATER. YOU. WAITING. FOR,_ ” he crows, rolling across the grass. “WATER. _WATER_. I CAN’T. I’M TOO GOOD.”

*

“AH-HAH!” Sokka yells, lunging forward with a jab of his sword. The tip of the blade swipes a hair’s width from Zuko’s nose. “HAH! HAH! HAH!” three more lunges.

Middle. High. Low. Back right. Hanging right. Inside left. Close left. Hanging left. Inside right. Flip. Roll. Flip.

20 minutes later, Sokka is panting, hands on his knees.

Zuko’s hair settles back around his face. The leaf flutters a little in the air before floating down again and resting, gently, in Zuko’s palm.

Zuko doesn’t even blink.

“Did I get you,” Sokka asks, out of breath.

Zuko holds up his leaf, which remains perfectly half-burnt.

“Aren’t you even _slightly_ worried I’m going to hit you?” Sokka asks, pointing his sword accusingly at Zuko’s impassive face.

“No,” Zuko says evenly, “you’ve mastered the highest level of swordsmanship, and I trust you.” He sounds so matter-of-fact and so casually, embarrassingly earnest that Sokka feels his face heat.

“Whatever,” Sokka mutters, sheathing his sword and trying to sound a little less pleased about the compliment. “You have a concerning lack of self-preservation, buddy. Just so you know.”

*

“I’m a catowl!” Sokka yells, jumping down from a tree branch, making claw hands.

“Yikes,” Zuko says.

*

“I’m a catdeer,” Sokka says, plucking a fig off a tree. “Being a jackass. Eating all your figs. Are you going to stop me?” he singsongs, taking a bite of the fruit.

“Definitely not a fig tree,” Zuko points out, just as Sokka gags and tries to wipe the disgusting taste of the random bulbous plant from his tongue.

“Catdeer are jackasses though,” Zuko says, almost to himself.

*

“I’m a catgator, your slithering, swampy nightmare,” Sokka warbles in his best creepy voice, emerging out of a dark corner of the pond. A turtleduck is squatting on top of his head.

Sokka waves it away impatiently. “You’re ruining my terrifying catgator impression,” he tells it.

The turtleduck squawks, sounding highly skeptical.

Sokka gapes. “What did you say to me?!”

The turtleduck squawks again, dismissive, before turning his tail on Sokka and wading unconcernedly back into the water.

“Now listen to me, you little –” Sokka says, wading after it.

“Yeah, you tell him,” Zuko says, yawning.

*

“I’m a cat,” Sokka yells, jumping out from the shadows, “…cat! Hiss, meow.”

Zuko opens his mouth, and closes it again.

“Okay,” says Sokka, defeated. “That was a bad one.”

*

“Uhh,” says Zuko, when Sokka plops down next to him and leans in until his face is inches from the side of Zuko’s own. Sokka narrows his eyes, and stares intently at Zukko’s ear.

“Shh,” he says. “I’m concentrating.”

“No, that’s what _I’ve_ been doing,” Zuko says. “And you’re trying to distract me now with…?”

Sokka taps a finger against his temple. “Mind bending,” he says seriously, not taking his eyes away from the side of Zuko’s face.

“Agni,” says Zuko.

*

Sokka’s not sure if it’s because of all the running and jumping (and flipping and rolling and climbing and crawling) he’s done over the better part of the day – or the dry, still heat of the desert – or the quiet peace that always settles, unbidden, over the garden at the bookends of the day, but he’s exhausted. And though he’s technically still trying to “mind bend” and Zuko’s still trying to keep the leaf from burning up, they lapse naturally into an easy, comfortable silence.

It’s quiet in the garden, dusk settling like a blanket over the pond, insects humming among the reeds at its edge.

Everything feels lazy and slow. Sokka yawns, stretching languidly. He’s so close to Zuko that he can hear the quiet crackling sound of the burning leaf, feel the ends of Zuko’s hair skimming the tip of his ear when the wind lifts. See the movement of Zuko’s throat when he swallows.

The fading sun lines Zuko’s profile with a little glow of gold. He smells warm, like heat and smoke. His mouth looks soft. Sokka stares at the curve of it. There’s a flush at the base of Zuko’s throat, dark against the open collar of his shirt. Sokka wonders, hazily, how far down it goes, and swallows when lazy heat pools in his stomach.

“Sokka?” Zuko asks. His voice is low. He lets out a breath, and Sokka feels the stir of it in the sluggish air.

Sokka’s mouth is dry.

He watches as Zuko lets out another breath, lips parted, and as suddenly as the slow, languid laziness has settled around them, it is gone – and in its place is a sharp, clear desperation, an ache in Sokka’s throat. He’s staring now, at this person sitting next to him, at his friend, his _great_ friend, at the slope of his nose and the curve of his mouth, his tousled hair silhouetted against the orange glow of the setting sun, his hands folded in his lap, a little leaf resting in his palm – and with a deep, aching need, Sokka, he _wants_ – he wants to –

Zuko shifts, and the side of his neck brushes against Sokka’s nose. It takes more willpower than Sokka thought he had not to push Zuko back against the grass in that moment, and slide hands into his hair, slide hands over his wrists and feel the beat of his pulse, tangle their legs and push their hips together, pressing down, into, into the heat, the hard, hot line of his –

Or maybe Zuko would pull their hips together instead, his palms hot through Sokka’s shirt – under Sokka’s shirt – on Sokka’s skin – and they would slide their mouths together, wet, panting into the space between them, breaths loud in the dying heat of the day –

“Sokka?” Zuko says again. His voice is hoarse.

Sokka draws back and clears his throat. Blood is rushing in his ears. He feels lighted-headed, drunk, and he knows there’s no way to hide the raw, naked _want_ that’s all over his face. It’s too late anyway, because Zuko is staring back at him, eyes dark.

Sokka has barely a second to think, “Fuck this, no one has _that_ much willpower,” before he puts a hand on Zuko’s thigh, and the leaf bursts into flames.

They both stare at it for a moment as it burns in Zuko’s palm.

Oh, Sokka thinks, watching as Zuko’s fingers curl over the flame, watching the fire disappear with a tiny hiss, watching ash and smoke trail into the air.

“Ah-hah,” Sokka says, into the silence.

Zuko looks at him. Sokka grins.

Slowly, he pushes Zuko back against the grass, sliding a hand over his wrist, feeling his steady pulse, leaning in, smiling against his lips – “I got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh so I haven't written fic in approximately 10 years. If it seems like I've forgotten how to write fic, please don't tell me, because it would be because life beat the fangirl out of me, and that's a depressing possibility no one needs to confront right now.
> 
> A huge thank you to my friend and beta hoekitchen, who is amazing and thoughtful and endlessly patient, and who convinced me to forgo scintillating titles such as, "I Wood Never Leaf You," "Don't Stop Be-Leafing," and "A Song of Leaf and Fire." She's doing her best, honestly.


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